


Space Looks a Lot Like New Jersey

by jjtaylor



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-25 00:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3790381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjtaylor/pseuds/jjtaylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ship's captain has a lonely job, but sometimes that's because he's chased everyone else away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Space Looks a Lot Like New Jersey

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://ataratah.dreamwidth.org/profile)[ataratah](http://ataratah.dreamwidth.org/) and [](http://tuesdaysgone.dreamwidth.org/profile)[tuesdaysgone](http://tuesdaysgone.dreamwidth.org/) for beta. Written for the 2012 [](http://bandomreversebb.livejournal.com/profile)
> 
> The fabulous art prompt that inspired this story is [Space AU](http://turlough.dreamwidth.org/2074424.html) by [](http://turlough.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://turlough.livejournal.com/)**turlough**.  
> 

"Ignite it," Gerard says. He can feel the fuse drifting out of their reach with each second they delay.

"We're too close," Mikey says, eyes never leaving the screen. "Just wait."

"We only have ten seconds if you want to get away clean."

"Not like it matters if we get more dirty," Mikey mumbles.

"Just blow it, Mikey," Gerard says. Mikey crosses his arms, and Gerard shoves him out of the way, and hits the trigger.

The ship in front of them is engulfed in flame and then gutters out, like a candle at the end of its wick. Pieces of the ship begin to break off and careen around, toward them, away, on the invisible waves of space.

Gerard steers standing up, hitting reverse and they speed away, disorientingly backward. He’s listening for the sound of debris catching the bow and so he misses Mikey uncrossing his arms to hit Gerard hard on the shoulder.

"Ow, Mikey, what the hell?"

Mikey just glares at him, and then adjusts the controls so they're actually flying and not just speeding blindly away.

"Look, I’m sorry, ok? We only had a few seconds."

"You’re not sorry," Mikey says. "You’re never sorry when we’re on demo duty."

Gerard fiddles with the flight stabilizer over Mikey's shoulder, hoping Mikey will let him get away without answering.

"We could go get them, you know," Mikey says, more gently.

"We can’t go get anybody," Gerard says, and he leaves Mikey to fly them to the next target.

 

 

"Are we trying to blow ourselves up now?" Lindsey says, pausing between lifting crates off the pallet and stacking them against the ship wall. "I thought we were only supposed to blow up ghost vessels."

"We are a ghost vessel," Gerard says. "Practically," he adds.

“Maybe it’s because of what you named her,” Lindsey says. “The Cancer?”

“It’s after the constellation,” Gerard says.

“It sounds like you’re just waiting to die,” Lindsey says. “Frank would have come up with something better.”

Gerard startles and smacks his hand into one of the crates. He feels his skin split, and he watches the blood drip down his palm and onto the deck. When he looks up, Lindsey is watching him.

"Why are you unloading these crates anyway?" Gerard says. "It's a waste of time if we're just giving you a ride to the next station house."

"Yeah, I guess I am just wasting my time," she says, and looks at him for a long moment before turning her attention back to the unload.

 

 

 

Gerard has to open four of the six cabinets in the storage room before he finds the bandages, and then he bleeds all over the box trying to get it open. Used to be that there was always a supply in his quarters, a neat little stack balanced above the intercom, so it was right there when he walked in. That was on the old ship, when they needed bandages like they needed currency, for all the sharp edges of a twelve-year-old double-decked guard-class ship that hadn't seen planetside since before the spaceways were under Associate control.

He’s never sure who put the bandages there, or who kept replenishing them, only that there is no one around to even help him tear open the package now. It’s the first time he remembers even getting cut since he and Mikey have been on this escort-class dart. This ship’s too smooth.

Gerard wraps his hand, not looking too closely at the cut. The bandage is on crooked and Gerard wraps and unwraps it too many times trying to fix it, so he knows it's not going to stick for long. He should have asked Lindsey for help, but he can't go back and ask her after his outburst without apologizing, and Mikey said it already – Gerard is never sorry when they are on demo duty. He doesn't have any room for second thoughts and remorse when their job is to go out and destroy damaged and abandoned vessels before the pirates – or worse, the Associates - get their hands on them.

The thing with demo duty is that the only people who are any good at the job are crews who have abandoned a ship of their own before, and know how to scavenge fast and not look back as what used to be someone's only home goes up in flames and is swallowed by the blackness of space.

 

 

"Demo zone 4 is clear," Gerard says, picking up the radio in the storage room and tuning the dials to base.

"Copy that, demo zone 4," the radio crackles. "Requesting clarification. Where are you reporting from?"

"Zone 4," Gerard repeats.

"Yeah, copy that," the voice says. "But are you calling from the storage room?"

Gerard doesn’t answer at first, and the dispatcher repeats the question. "You can tell?"

"It’s a radio signal, I can track it," the voice says and Gerard realizes what he should have known right away - it’s Ray.

"Hey man, what are you doing at dispatch?" Gerard asks.

"Answer my question first," Ray says. "Why are you calling from the storage room, Gee? Is there something wrong with the other radio? You know you can use the emergency channel."

"The emergency channel is a joke," Gerard says.

"Sometimes," Ray says. In the background there's another unit report. "Copy that," Ray says into the other mic. "Are you gonna tell me or should I call Mikey?"

"Mikey's on the bridge," Gerard says.

"So you can hang out in storage?"

"Look, Ray, it's good to hear from you but I've got to get going," Gerard says.

"You can take a dispatch shift, let us actually see your face every once and a while."

"My face hasn't changed," Gerard says.

"If you say so. Base 7 is open for your return," Ray says, his radio voice back.

"Ok," Gerard says and he puts the receiver back in its cradle.

Gerard doesn't take shifts at dispatch if he can help it. Too many faceless voices, everyone needing guidance. What could his faceless voice do for them, anyway, miles and miles away at the other end of space?

 

 

Gerard never wanted to get onto the space highway in the first place, but it’s like everyone says, once you go, the strange air gets inside you and you can never go back home the same way. It was Frank who hauled him into the back of a convoy, holding two tickets that wouldn't get them farther than a joyride.

"It's just like the trains," he assured Gerard, but taking off into atmo was nothing like the trains he and Mikey hopped running through the old parking lots, coming from somewhere else and going somewhere else.

 

 

"You done sulking?" Mikey asks, wandering past Gerard in a way that Gerard had hoped meant Mikey was going to pretend Gerard isn’t there at all. Mikey puts a coffee packet into the machine and presses the green button.

"I'm not sulking," Gerard says. He's reading through the engine maintenance handbook he found on the demo'd ship as they were setting the fuse. Mikey looks over his shoulder.

"That’s not what Lindsey said," Mikey says.

Gerard doesn’t answer, but he’d be surprised if the word she used was sulking.

"We have that coil," Mikey says. Gerard turns down the corner of the page, creasing it with his thumbnail. "I got a few exhaust manifolds, probably Grade C."

"If we're lucky," Gerard says. "That ship had been out there at least a week. The mainframe was corroded all to hell."

Mikey shrugs. His coffee has finished brewing and he shuts off the machine, jamming it hard since Mikey thinks that's the only way to get anything to shut off.

"A few more indicators and bypass valves and we could trade up to a split-side backrunner ship. Maybe get enough mileage out of it to take a few patrol shifts."

"You want to patrol now?" Gerard says.

"Sure wasn't my heart's greatest desire to blow things up all day."

"You can always go lift-surfing next time we hit a major port," Gerard says.

"You trying to chase me off now, too?" Mikey says. It stings, and Gerard looks away. Mikey takes a sip of his coffee, pulls a face, and sets the cup down in front of Gerard. "I'll take that," Mikey says, grabbing the engine handbook from Gerard's hands. Gerard lets him, and then gets up and tosses the coffee, cup and all, into the recycler.

 

 

The hologram flickers in front of Gerard as he's walking down the hallway and he stops, so startled he can't speak.

"The ship's losing air pressure, you're slowly suffocating and you're hallucinating me," Dewees says.

"Really?" Gerard asks, taking several deep breaths in.

"No," Dewees says. "I'm still just a hologram."

"Fuck you," Gerard says. "You're such an asshole."

"Your words hurt," Dewees says, and then he slaps his thigh and laughs. "Nah, who am I kidding. I'm dead! Nothing hurts anymore."

"I've got things to do, James, get out of my way."

"Touchy, touchy," Dewees says. "You know you can walk right through a hologram."

Gerard sighs and does just that. Dewees flickers out and a moment later, flickers back beside Gerard, as though they’re walking down the hallway together, except that Dewees' insubstantial feet don't quite touch the floor.

"Mikey's right, you know. You're sulking."

"I'm not fucking sulking," Gerard says. "This is just how I am."

"Sure," Dewees says. "This is who you were before the rescue of Infinity on High?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"No," Dewees says. "You certainly don't. You hardly want to talk about anything with anyone. Not with your brother, not with your friends, not with Frank."

"What do you know about what I do and don't talk about with Frank?"

Dewees just shakes his holographic head. "Has he set foot off planet since you threw him off this tin can of a ship?"

"I didn't throw - "

"You did," Dewees says. "Everyone else is a lot nicer about it, trying not to hurt your feelings, trying not to make things worse, but I don't give a shit about worse. There is no worse for me, I'm already gone."

"Well that's the problem, isn't it!" Gerard says, "You're dead because of me."

"I'm dead because of an Associate gun, I'm pretty sure," Dewees says. "Unless the computer recorder got it wrong."

"How could it get it wrong, you built it! None of the tech you ever built went wrong. And now everything is shit."

"Are you saying that I'm perfect?" Dewees asks. "That the holographic prototype of myself I created as a scientific experiment in cyber-consciousness - "

"You said it was for sex games."

"Ok, fine, that the holographic prototype of myself I created as a scientific experiment to spice up sex games is a flawless copy?"

"You're just as ridiculous as you were when you were alive. Just as bothersome, too."

"Then what the hell are you whining about? If I'm as good dead as I am alive, then why are you such a sourpuss who chases off his friends?"

"I got you killed, James," Gerard says. "You can pretend that the hologram you is the same, but it's not."

"You're telling me," Dewees says. "Holograms can't eat and I've been craving sweet potato fries like crazy."

Gerard just continues off down the hallway, and before he reaches the cockpit, Dewees flickers out, giving him a salute.

"You talking to Dewees?" Mikey says.

"It's not really him, Mikey," Gerard says. "It's just a hologram."

"He still beat me at Super Space Mario," Mikey says. "We'll be at Base 7 in half an hour, with an hour unload."

"Fine," Gerard says. "I'm going to go lie down."

"You do that," Mikey says, and swivels back to the view screen, turning his back to Gerard. It's as much as he deserves.

 

 

Mikey must have given Lindsey the same ETA he gave Gerard, because just a minutes after Gerard untucks the blanket on his cot and lies down, there's a sharp rap on the door. There are only two other people on the ship, and Mikey doesn't knock.

"I'm just coming to say goodbye," Lindsey says, through the door. Gerard feels weighted down, unable to get up. "Which I guess I can do through a closed door if you're going to be this much of an asshole. So, fine, goodbye."

Gerard finally manages to haul himself up, unsure of what it was that had stopped him in the first place. He throws open the door and leans out – Lindsey is halfway down the hall.

"Lindsey, come on, wait," he calls out.

"Wait for what?" Lindsey says. "For your spirits to lift? You're not in a bad mood, Gerard. You're in a bad life."

"This life sucks for all of us."

"Yeah, it does, sometimes," Lindsey says, "But it sucks for you worst of all, doesn't it? Because you're the only one who's been fucked hard by the Associates? Because you're the only one who doesn't have enough spare parts to keep you in the air? Because you're the only one who has to lie your way into the provisional fleet?"

"I know I'm not alone out here," Gerard says.

"No you don't," Lindsey says. "You think you’re completely alone. Look, I caught a lift with you because Bob asked me to, ok? And I was foolish enough to think that enough time had passed, and maybe you were ready."

"Ready for what?"

"To start living again." Lindsey shakes her head at him. "I don't have it in my heart to forgive the world, either, ok?" Lindsey says. "But maybe you can start by forgiving one person. That's something you can do."

"There's no one I need to forgive," Gerard says.

"Look in the mirror," Lindsey says, and heads off toward the loading bay.

 

 

 

They’re only on Base 7 for a few minutes when Gerard hears the voice. He freezes, and instead of the din of Base traffic and port control, he hears The House of Wolves’s proximity alarm, the thunder of gun volleys outside, the tightness of that same voice calling over the emergency channel that they’re pinned down by someone, some ship, they didn't even know, firing, could someone, anyone help.

Gerard gave the order and they were cruising toward the Infinity on High so fast, the adrenaline making Gerard feel like time was moving too slowly. Mikey was driving, fast and sharp and on point as usual, Ray and Bob were cranking out what they could from the ship’s guns, Frank and James were suiting up to start the passenger relocation. Frank was being a smart ass about how wasn't Gerard glad that they hadn't traded away the guns last port, James saying he'd trade Frank's guns anytime - Gerard remembered it, too clearly.

The House of Wolves was the only ship in range and they weren't equipped for any kind of battle. They were hardly space-worthy, flying on vapors, and the closest thing they had to rescue equipment was the 30-foot-long ladder that Bob was unbolting from the ceiling. That was his idea, apparently, for how they were going to board the ship.

It turned out they weren't so much boarding for the fight as taking on injured passengers, Pete already having set the ship to self-destruct.

"What the fuck did you do to piss off the Associates this badly?" Frank had asked as Ashlee tossed canvas bags of salvageable parts across the gangplank while Ray caught and stowed them.

"Existed," Patrick said, stumbling on the ladder rungs, unsteady from the gash on his forehead and whatever injury lay below his torn clothing.

"Or it could have been the piston rings I lifted from the inspection ship last port," Pete said.

"You crazy fucker," James had said, "Stealing from the Associates." And then the Associate fire had turned on the House of Wolves and clipped the edge of the wall. Frank had leaped to either side of the loading bay doors, taking them down fast and giving Mikey the all clear, but some of the fire caught James clear across the chest, like a knife slash from a god-like hand. He fell backwards onto the deck with a terrible thud, the fire still echoing against the ship as they sped off, only the spectacular fireball that was Infinity on High's self-destruction stopping them from being caught in pursuit.

 

"Hey man," Pete says, and Gerard shakes himself hard, digs his fingers into his palms, and he's here on the gangplank on Base 7, not on the ship shuddering apart, cracking like a walnut.

"Hey Pete," Gerard forces out. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, we're good, man, we're good," Pete says. "We're running a belly lander now, pretty sweet. Named her Folie a Deux." His face darkens for a moment and then he says, "Trick's doing his own thing for a while. He had a hard recovery, but he's good. We're good."

"That's good," Gerard says. He can still see the gash on Patrick's head, and Bob and Ray each with a shoulder under Patrick’s arms.

"I'm sorry about James," Pete says in a quieter voice. "You don't know how sorry I am."

"That's life in space now," Gerard says. "That's the choice we all make, to take that risk." They're empty words and Gerard hopes they mean something to Pete because they sure as hell don't mean anything to him.

"Yeah," Pete says, and then like he's snapping himself out of his own worst memories, he says, in a bright, cheery tone, "Hey, where's Frank? I wanted to ask him for some help with my service weapon, the repeat keeps jamming."

Frank's name right now is worse than the thundering memory of Associate cannons firing into their flimsy shield.

"I don't know where to find Frank these days," Gerard says. Pete gapes at him, and Gerard turns and walks off into port. He can hear Mikey on the ramp, can hear him start to say something reassuring to Pete. Gerard blocks it out, focusing on the landing gears of ships up and down the port deck.

 

 

Someone grabs him by the lapels of his jacket as he turns the corner toward the open market. His hand is on his weapon at his belt, just about to pull it from the holster when Frank pushes him into a dark, empty room, and Frank's mouth is on his, teeth sharp in his bottom lip as the door slams shut behind them.

"Frank," he gasps as Frank takes a breath before kissing him again, sloppy and aggressive, with a sense of ownership that makes Gerard sick to his stomach.

"Shut your mouth," Frank says, biting Gerard's lip again and his jaw for good measure.

"Frank - " Gerard says, not listening, and Frank, hands still tight in the lapels of Gerard's jacket, slams Gerard back against the wall.

"I said shut your fucking mouth," Frank says. He pulls Gerard forward and slams him back against the wall again. "You say another word and I'll stop." Frank is staring at him, intense, his mouth a nasty scowl that screws up his face so he's barely familiar at all.

Gerard presses his lips together, and Frank nods. "That’s right, shut your mouth. Swallow all your goddamn words." Frank sucks on Gerard's neck, sharp and long enough that it will bloom with a bright purple bruise before he's back on the ship. Gerard gasps and the sound is apparently close enough to a word that Frank lifts his head, presses his teeth to Gerard's cheek like he's going to take a bite. Gerard inhales deeply through his nose, lips closed again.

Frank plasters his body against Gerard's, and it's not warm, not an embrace. Frank seems to be trying to erase Gerard with his body, to smother him out of existence.

"Asshole," Frank murmurs, and it's almost fond and Gerard thinks this time this thing they're doing might be subdued, might not strip him down to his nerves and leave him jumpy and oversensitive for hours, for days into space. But then Frank presses his forearm against Gerard's chest, like Gerard is a barrier Frank is battering through by sheer determination, like Gerard is trying to escape and Frank is holding him, unrelentingly, in place.

Frank plants his feet on either side of Gerard's and leans his whole weight on the arm on Gerard's chest. It's hard to breathe and Gerard tries to make his breath shallow, so it doesn't ache deep in the bottom of his lungs, but Frank doesn't wait for Gerard to adjust to it, he just shifts his balance and tugs open Gerard's pants.

Frank's hand is rough on Gerard's cock, he wants to think that it doesn't even feel good, except it does, it's just over that edge of pain. He winces and whines for more at the same time, his hips bucking up toward Frank as Frank pushes down on Gerard's chest, his forehead dropping down to rest against the side of Gerard's neck.

Gerard wants to beg Frank for more, ask him to slow down, to spit in his hand or something to make this a little more like sex and a little less like an onslaught. Gerard thinks maybe Frank's read his mind when Frank's hand pulls back, but then it's just to push down Gerard's pants, awkward, one side at a time, because Frank won't move the arm across Gerard's chest, the barrier between them. Frank finally gets Gerard's pants where he wants them and then he has Gerard's cock in his hand, rough and fast as before. Gerard bites his lip hard to keep his mouth shut, to keep the words in the way Frank wants.

Frank mouths at Gerard's throat, hot and wet and Gerard bucks up into Frank's hands again. Frank pushes hard, pushes more of his weight against Gerard's chest so his ribs ache, and his spine is getting crushed against the wall, rough and scraped and Frank sucks on the hickey he'd made earlier, and it's a sweet, sick feeling that goes up from his toes and out through his fingers. He grabs for Frank's waist, hands awkward and fumbling, and he squeezes Frank's hips under his hands, and they're right there but he can't seem to get a grip. He slides his fingers down, along the zipper, the seam of the pockets, trying to find purchase, to get Frank to react, to participate rather than just let Frank make him feel like this. He feels the cold, canvas material of Frank's pants give way to the hot bulge of his cock, but the second that Gerard’s hand brushes over it, Frank shoves himself away.

"No," Frank says, low and final. Gerard breathes in deep breathes, his lungs burning from all the shallow gasps. Frank glares at him, and then his expression changes as he looks Gerard up and down: Gerard's splayed feet, his palms to the wall as he's holding himself up, his cock out, breathing open mouthed and tonguing at his lips.

Their eyes meet, and then Frank's dropping to his knees, his nails digging into the inside of Gerard's thighs. Before Gerard can cry out at the sharp, shocking pain, Frank takes Gerard's cock in his mouth and Gerard whimpers, turned upside down and confused with the pain and pleasure, the hurt and the need.

Frank's not even being careful with his teeth and Gerard doesn't like the pain, they've never done it like this, but he doesn't hate it either. He wants more, he wants whatever Frank will give him and if this is what Frank has to give, Gerard will take it.

Gerard tries to touch Frank's hair, which is falling messily over his face, but Frank shakes his hand away and scrapes his nails up Gerard's thighs and Gerard doesn't try to touch him again.

It's an uncomfortable reminder that Frank doesn't want anything Gerard has to give him, and confusing, too, with Frank there in front of Gerard on his knees, like so many times before when this was a thing the two of them did instead of – whatever this is, when it seems like neither of them is fully here.

Frank sucks Gerard hard and quick, too rough, too fast, and when Gerard comes, it feels like he's missed a step, like he can't find his balance. He opens his eyes, dragging in a deep breath as Frank lets him go, and stands up fast, only adding to Gerard's disorientation.

Frank pushes his hair out of his face, spits on the floor, and wipes his mouth on the sleeve, the same arm that was holding Gerard down. If Gerard had anything sentimental left in him, he'd think that maybe it was Frank's way of staying close, of taking something of Gerard with him, pressing his mouth to Gerard's chest through this filter, some scent of Gerard still lingering that he's savoring. Frank's mouth is a scowl, like even if he were holding on to something of Gerard on his sleeve he finds it distasteful.

"Do you want me to - " Gerard says.

"No," Frank says.

Every time they do this, Gerard knows Frank is giving him the opportunity to apologize, to make things right, and every time Gerard can’t do it. It's as though from the moment Frank's hands are on him, Gerard has nothing worth saying. Anyway, if Frank wanted him to talk so much, why did he keep telling him to shut up?

"Are you sure - " Gerard says.

"I told you to shut the fuck up, Gerard," Frank says, and walks out of the room. The door shuts hard, leaving Gerard alone in a storage room filled with a bunch of shipping crates going from nowhere to nowhere.

 

 

 

Dewees flickers into the space behind the propulsion controls as Gerard pulls up screens of star charts for working out the route to their next ghost ship demolition. Mikey is noticeably absent, having retreated to his room as soon as they were clear of port docking.

"Hey man," Dewees says and Gerard tries to hide his startle by quickly shuffling the screens. "Nice hickey." Gerard's hand immediately goes to his neck.

"Fuck you," Gerard says.

"Hey, I can appreciate a great hickey and that one's pretty spectacular."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Touchy, touchy," Dewees says. "I heard Mikey say he'd seen Frank while you were on the dock."

"I don't want to talk about that either," Gerard says.

"You not wanting to talk about Frank, well isn't that a shock to the heart. Could it be that the hickey is the exact shape and size of his mouth?"

"Leave me alone, James," Gerard says, flipping through star charts so fast that he's plotting them far enough off course they might as well be taking a detour through the suborbital passes.

"Leave you alone?" Dewees exclaims, waving his hands around, the hologram leaving what looks like heat trails in the air behind his fingers. "I can feel you flipping through the charts like you're digging through my pockets."

"Why are the star charts in your pockets then?"

"Why are the - " Dewees says, disgusted. "Because you fucking jammed my virtual self into the new engine like I'm some kind of plug and play peripheral. I'm advanced and delicate technology, ok, and I'm so tangled up in the ship's main computer system and so I can feel every single thing you do!"

"I'm no computer expert."

"You're telling me," Dewees says. There's a pause and Gerard knows it's coming. "Frank could fix me."

"No," Gerard says.

"No, he can't fix me? Because I'm pretty sure that's a bald-faced lie. I assure you it's only a matter of time until I sneeze and blow out your thrusters."

"Frank's not coming on this ship."

"You don't even let my friends visit," Dewees says, and then, as a parting shot before his hologram disappears, "I’d say you could use a tune-up from Frank, too, but it looks like you already got one."

 

 

Gerard's checking the hatches are all dogged down when he hears a sound in the forward stair. He has his hand on his weapon and he takes the corner sharply, but before he can even take the gun out of its holster, he runs face first into someone's shoulder.

"Watch where you're going, Captain," Bob says. For an awkward moment, Gerard just blinks at Bob, as though he’s expecting him to disappear.

"Don't call me that," Gerard says.

"That's what you have to say to me?" Bob says. "Some whiny remark about your failure at a position of authority?"

Gerard is ready to argue, defensive and short, when Bob grins at him and Gerard feels completely disarmed.

"Try saying hello," Bob prompts. "Hi Bob, welcome aboard."

"How'd you get on board?"

"Hi Bob," Bob repeats.

"Hi Bob," Gerard says, smiling. "Did my little brother smuggle you on board with the resupply boxes?"

"You think I’d fit in one of those?" Bob says. "I can still operate bulkhead doors, you know."

"So," Gerard says. "Welcome aboard?"

"Save it," Bob says. "Let's find Ray."

"Ray?" Gerard says, losing his footing, feeling panic creeping over him.

"Yeah," Bob says. "I think he's in one of the boxes."

 

 

 

Mikey and Dewees are playing cards in the galley. Dewees has a cup of coffee in front of him, like he can actually drink.

"Mikey told me you'd gone translucent," Bob says, when Dewees turns and gives him finger guns.

"Mikey's told people lots of things," Gerard says. Mikey won't look at Gerard.

"I fixed the pitch maneuvers!" Ray says, coming into the galley and then stopping when he sees Gerard.

"Hi Gerard," Ray says cautiously.

"Were you seriously going to try to hide on the ship?" Gerard says. "It's not that big."

"Feels pretty empty to me," Mikey says.

"Want some coffee?" Dewees says. "I can't drink anymore."

Ray laughs and tries to hide it in a cough.

"Is there anyone else lurking around?" Gerard says.

"You mean Frank?" Mikey says. "I don't know, did you invite him? You were the last one to see him, after all. Or did you keep your eyes closed the whole time?"

Gerard crosses his arms, tucking his fingers underneath his arms so he doesn't give anything away by reaching for the hickey on his neck, which he'd been about to do.

Mikey just shakes his head and Gerard knows he is going to have to be the one to either say anything or leave.

He thinks of Frank waiting for him to say something, something to make it better. Gerard can't speak any more now than he could then.

"Bob, can you give me a hand with the yaw switch?" Ray says.

"Sure," Bob says easily, though everyone can tell it’s an out.

"I'll just go - " Dewees says and flickers out, leaving Gerard and Mikey alone.

 

 

"Why did you let them on?" Gerard says, before he really means to.

Mikey blinks at him, as though trying to clear him out of his vision. "Will you listen to yourself?"

"We're a small vessel, we don't have the - "

"I invited them on because they're our friends. I missed them. And we need them," Mikey adds. "Ray already fixed the pitch."

"We could have bargained for service on it."

"Yeah, but that's exactly my point," Mikey says. "We don't need to bargain for a mechanic. We know someone who could make a matchbox car space-worthy."

"It's not something I want to do anymore," Gerard says.

"What? Have friends?"

"When I was a captain, I got people killed."

"It was an accident. Are you saying you wouldn't do it again, if someone needed our help?"

"I shouldn’t be in that position, to make that choice."

"Wake up, Gerard. We're all in that position. That's what life out here is. Every moment, staying alive, and trying to help whoever you can do the same."

Gerard wishes he had Mikey's clear view of things. He wishes he could feel that generous, that giving.

 

They're on a two day shift of demo duty, and are already halfway to the first target when Gerard discovers his stowaway friends, and so he has no option but to say Ray and Bob can stay, and, he thinks, there’s no good way for him to ask them to leave without starting a fight with Mikey. He doesn’t really want them to leave, but they shouldn’t be here. It’s too good to have them, too much like before, and that only makes the empty spot where Frank would be stand out more.

Ray makes salvage quicker, Bob sets much more stable fuses than Gerard ever could manage, and Gerard almost relaxes into it, into having people aboard and everything not going to shit. They blowing ghost ships three zones in a row without any sightings in the long-distance sensors, with hardly any chatter on the alert channels.

On the second day out of port, Mikey sets them cruising toward the next ghost ship, his feet up on the dash. Gerard's taken the stool that in another ship might be the co-pilot's seat. Bob is not so secretly using the comm channel to send veiled threats to Lindsey, who Gerard found out is running the shop while Bob is on the ship. Gerard knows how Bob doesn't like anyone else touching his equipment.

"This guy tried to sell me a plant that grew bolts," Ray says.

"No," Gerard says. "He can't have."

"And I said, plants don't grow bolts," Ray says.

"And what did he say, this special plant does?" Mikey asks.

"He said plants don't grow nuts, but they grow bolts in this zone."

"He needed to grow some nuts," Bob says, his hand over the receiver.

"I bought the plant," Ray says. "Just so I could prove to him I knew how the bolts were tied on."

"You didn't," Gerard says – or he tries to say, and then the rear proximity alarm is sounding.

"Shit," Mikey says.

"What did we hit, let me see the screen," Gerard says. "Was it debris?"

"There's nothing to hit," Bob says. "We're not in port traffic."

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news," Dewees says, flickering into existence.

"Code red," Mikey says, picking up the radio transmitter. Gerard watches him spin the dial, the numbers clicking up to the emergency channel as though in slow motion. "Code red, star alignment quartet in Zone 6, this is the Cancer, we are requesting separation or eradication. We have impact," Mikey says, as the rear proximity alarm sounds again, and this time, they feel the sickening thud of the bow of an Associate ship ramming them at the tail.

"Ok, guess you already know then. I'm just going to go hide in the most remote circuit possible," Dewees says. Gerard would fault him for running scared if he weren't a hologram whose creator was killed the last time something like this happened. Gerard himself is fighting panic, imagining the sound of cannon fire before it's happening, imagining Associates crawling on the hull and laser-slicing their way in.

"No," Gerard says, to no one, but Mikey, Ray, and Bob all look up at him. "No, they can't have the ship. I fucking hate this ship, it's too smooth, nothing sticks, but I will not let the Associates have it."

"Well then," Bob says, "I guess we'd better get the guns."

Bob is a ruthlessly good shot, but the angle’s all wrong, and the Associate ships are faster at defensive steering, and have the advantage of size. Ray is helping Bob balance, shouting out coordinates.

There’s a short volley of shots and then a deep thud. “They’ve hit the main transmitter,” Mikey shouts out. Gerard can hear how scared his brother is in just those few words.

“This is not good for our emotional well-being,” Ray shouts, and then squints at the display screen and calls out to Bob, “Alpha 24, no, 27, left. No, your other left!”

“In the storeroom,” Gerard says to Mikey, and sees the first glint of hope come back to his face. “There’s another transmitter there. I’ll go,” he says, and Mikey looks relieved that he can stay here with his hands on the flight controls.

Gerard runs for the storeroom, jumping stairs and landing so hard he jars his knees. He needs – he needs -

"Frank," he barks into the mic, twisting the dial to Frank’s channel and catches himself on the table as the ship rocks.

There's a crackle of static that goes on for so long that he’s certain, his heart sinking, his stomach churning, that Frank won't answer.

"Gee, what's wrong?" Frank says, and Gerard can hear his chair skittering across the tiles, can hear him typing. "Tell me that's not you on my radar."

"Depends," Gerard says and catches himself again as the ship rocks. "Is the little dot on your screen surrounded by a bunch of other dots who are firing on it?"

"You guys sure do sound like you're in a pickle." His light voice would be annoying if Gerard couldn't hear the tension behind it, and the furious sound of his typing.

"We're in a jar of pickles," Gerard says. Frank laughs. "Can you – can you help?" Gerard asks. He's desperate, but he doesn't need just anyone's help. He needs Frank.

"I'm helping right now," Frank says. "As long as the Associate security codes are still easy as pie....." There's a volley of fire and Gerard loses his balance, falls on the floor with a groan. "Gerard!" Frank shouts, as Gerard pulls himself up and grabs the mic. "Gerard, you ok?"

"Yeah," Gerard says, because he's alive and that's all that matters right now. "Yeah, I'm ok."

"Ok, I'm going to give you a window, but it's gonna be small and you're gonna have to fly like your ass is on fire."

"Not a problem," Gerard says. "I'll have Mikey take the wheel."

Frank laughs and then says, "Then find that fucker and get to the bridge."

"I'm gonna give you a countdown, ok?"

"Here, I'll put you on shipwide speaker."

"Your ship has speakers?"

"It has James," Gerard says.

"Hey Frankie," Dewees' hologram says, appearing beside Gerard.

"Oh, fuck, man, is this your sexcapade hologram, that's fucked up."

"I was never fully tested."

"You mean for STDs?"

"You gonna get us out of this mess, Frankie?" Dewees asks. "I don't want the enemy forces to get their hands on my see-through body."

"I can cause a diversion," Frank says, "But it's up to you to get yourselves out of there. There's only so much I can do from over here."

"There's a lot you can do," Gerard says, "But it's better when I can see your face."

The static makes Gerard think he's gone too far, but then Dewees starts counting and Gerard can hear Frank's voice all through the ship.

Gerard takes off running toward the bridge and he hears Ray shout from up near the fore hatch, "Is that Frank? And is Dewees counting down? It's never good when he's counting down."

"Never good for the Associates, you mean," Bob says. "He does crazy math."

"Hey guys," Frank says over the intercom.

Dewees counts down, "45, 44, 43...."

"Nice to know my work will be appreciated," Frank says.

Gerard makes it to the bridge when Dewees’ count reaches the teens.

"What are we gonna need to do, Frank?" Gerard asks.

"Just fly," Frank says.

Mikey nods, his hands on the controls.

"Eleven, ten, nine,..." Dewees counts.

"Ok, here's my best moves," Frank says.

"Three, two - " Dewees counts.

"Did you just......" Gerard watches as all the lights blink out on the Associate ships, seconds before they begin to tilt and spin.

"Reverse collective pitch control?" Frank finishes.

"I'd call that a diversion," Mikey says.

Mikey takes them out of there so fast that even Dewees' hologram sways on his feet with the acceleration.

 

 

Their ship has been tagged, and so while they're out of the firing line thanks to Frank's distraction and Mikey's alarming but admittedly excellent driving, they need a new vehicle and fast.

Gerard's about to start taking stock of their inventory, wondering if anything is enough to buy their way onto a ship and off one that has Associate paw prints all over it.

"We've got a taker," Mikey says, calling down from the railings.

"Wait, what?" Gerard asks. "Really? How?"

"You're not gonna like it," Mikey says. "I called in a favor."

"Who owes you a - " Gerard says, but then the hatch is opening and Pete Wentz is waving at him.

"I heard your call requesting a separation and extraction," Pete says.

"More like relocate and demo, now," Gerard says. There's a tense silence, and then Gerard says, "You gonna blow up this shiny piece of shit or what, Wentz?"

Pete's somber face bursts into a grin. "You guys grab anything worth salvaging that isn't bolted down, and I'll take you places the spaceway maps don't even know to leave uncharted."

"Don't make it sound so creepy," Ashlee says from behind him. "Think you boys can hustle? Sooner, better, explosions, you know how it is."

"Don't forget me," Dewees says. "You shoved me in, you can take me out."

"Is your hologram making a joke about putting out on a first date?" Pete asks.

"I was created with the option to be a cyber fuck buddy," Dewees says.

"Shut up and show Bob where your chip is," Gerard says.

"Only if he asks nicely," Dewees says, but he blinks out.

"Your crew is a little scary," Ashlee says.

"Yeah," Gerard says, smiling. "Yeah, they are."

 

 

The fuse is set and Gerard lets Mikey set it off. Mikey's always hated the ship even worse than Gerard, hated everything it stood for, everything Gerard was trying to erase. Bob is watching from the deck, but Ray is cleaning up their salvage, claiming he's had enough explosions for one day. Gerard understands – if he didn't need to see it for himself that it was gone, he wouldn't be watching either, but the fireball, he decides, will be symbolic. That ship was too easy, it was an escape, and Gerard needs to run at things, not away from them. He needs sharp edges. He needs fire.

"Destruction shouldn't be so beautiful, man," Pete says.

Ordinarily Gerard would roll his eyes, but Pete's not that far off.

"Thanks," Gerard says.

"Least I can do," Pete says, and then surprises Gerard by turning and heading off to his quarters, leaving Gerard there to watch the debris drift.

"Dewees, you there, man?"

"This ship's console is cozy," Dewees says, flickering into the space beside Gerard. His hologram is bluer on Pete's ship. "A hologram could get used to this."

"Is it part of your programing to make everything sound so pornographic?" Gerard asks.

"Yes," Dewees says.

"Can you keep it in your pants long enough to call Frankie?" Gerard asks. He doesn't mean to use the nickname.

"Tell him we're coming home?"

"If he has time to, you know, meet us in port or whatever," Gerard says.

"I can totally turn that into some dirty talk," Dewees says. "Don't you worry your pretty little head."

 

 

It takes two days to get into port, and despite what Dewees said, Gerard hasn't heard a response from Frank. He figures it's too much, in the end, for Gerard to expect Frank to forget everything else just because he jumped in to save him. Frank would have saved anyone he could, in a situation like that. Gerard can't expect it to mean more.

Pete and Ashlee helped them unload, and Bob offers his shop for them to crash in.

"As long as you don't move in," Bob says. "Or if you do, you've got to learn how to fix exchange tubes, which I've been trying to teach you for years, anyway."

"And if I don't want to double as a mechanic," Gerard says. "What are my options?"

"We could buy a ship," Mikey says. "One that we'll try not to blow up."

"We've barely got enough to rent a mail runner," Gerard says.

"Maybe we have more than we think?" Mikey adds hopefully.

Mikey dumps out their bag of ship parts they've been collecting over the past few months, and a few Mikey's been hanging onto since before Gerard can remember, as though he had them when they first left planetside. Most of them are Grade C, but there are a few Grade Bs from the last minute salvage of the ship, and there's one Grade A – a precious fuel gauge.

"It's not enough," Gerard says. "Not for a clear contract on a ship, and certainly not for a hybrid."

"What about with this?" Ray says. He opens up a bundle that looks like two shirts sewn together across the bottoms. There are at least 3 Grade A piston rings that Gerard can see in the pile, and from Ray's smile, there might be more in the milk crate that Bob's carrying.

"That's impressive," Gerard says, a little choked up at what it means that the guys have been saving ship parts, that they're bringing them here so openly, so willingly. Gerard doesn't think he deserves their offering, their continued friendship, but he doesn't trust himself to say anything.

"It's true, we are impressive, aren't we?" Bob says.

"You got room on the bargaining table for this?" Gerard startles at Frank's sudden presence in the door of Bob's shop. Frank doesn't look at Gerard when he pulls the small bag he's slung over his shoulder and turns it upside down. Out spills what looks like two dozen spark plugs – all Grade A, all in highest demand.

"How - " Gerard says.

Frank just shrugs. "Been saving up. Waiting for the right moment."

"And this is - " Gerard says, and finds he has to clear his throat before he continues. Mikey is shaking his head at him and Bob and Ray are politely looking away. "This is the right moment?"

"Good as," Frank says, and his smirk is real, not the mask that had been all he'd let Gerard see. Gerard grabs Frank and kisses him, off-center and flailing. Frank is grinning back at him. When Gerard breaks away, Mikey, Bob, and Ray are all looking off in other directions.

"So who wants to go barter for a ship?" Gerard says. He’s got one of the spark plugs clutched in his fist.

"I think we need a fuel-efficient re-supply craft," Bob says.

"What about a satellite chaser?" Ray offers.

"Long as it goes fast," Mikey says.

"You have a preference, Gee?" Frank asks.

"You guys had better get me my own partitioned drive," Dewees says from the hollowed out processor where Bob is storing him.

"You're ruining the moment," Frank says to the bodiless voice.

"Oh, you meant the moment for make-up sex?" Dewees says. "Yeah, I guess I’d get in the way for that. But you should know, I am programmed to - "

"Enough, man," Frank says.

"I don’t care what ship it is," Gerard says. "As long as it’s got personality." As long as we’re all on it, is what he doesn’t say, but they all know what he means.

 

 

 

 

_Five months later_

“Base 8, this is The Bulletproof Heart, requesting data upload,” Mikey says.

“Copy, Bulletproof Heart, your package is ready,” the radio voice responds.

“We’re ready,” Mikey calls out, and Frank swings himself under the railing and steadies himself with a hand on Gerard’s elbow as he lands. Gerard is peering at the console, waiting for the progress bar to move.

“You need to plug in first, genius,” Frank says, and lies down on his stomach, head under the console panel. He stretches his arm out for the cord that Bob has snaked through from the lower level.

“You got it?” Bob calls out, his voice muffled.

“Almost,” Frank says. “No hurry, though, Gerard’s got a great view.” Frank wiggles his ass and Gerard feels his face flush.

“Actually there is a hurry,” Ray says, from underneath them. “Bob’s standing on my shoulders and I’ve already got his boot print permanently pressed into my collarbone.”

“I offered to take off my shoes, you fucker,” Bob says.

“That would have been even worse,” Ray says.

“Got it!” Frank says, and triumphantly tugs on the cord and plugs it into the console. There’s a sharp crackle of static and then the progress bar glows blue.

“We’ve got file transfer!” Gerard calls out.

Dewees’ hologram flickers on next to Frank. “Is it working?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Frank says. Dewees holds his hand up in front of his face and them smacks himself on the forehead.

“Ouch,” Dewees says.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?” Frank says. “We’re testing whether you can touch other things, not yourself.”

“Ooooh, I should see if I can touch myself,” Dewees says, and starts to unbutton his pants.

“Cancel the upload!” Gerard shouts, and tries to find the console’s power switch.

“Cut it out,” Frank says, and swats at Dewees’ hands - and he makes contact.

“Dude,” Dewees says.

“Awesome programming, Frankie,” Gerard says.

Bob comes clambering up the ladder from the lower deck, Ray behind him. “It worked?” Bob asks. Ray pokes Dewees in the stomach.

“Package is complete,” Mikey says over the radio.

“No, seriously, is my package complete?” Dewees says, and resumes unbuttoning his pants.

Frank swats at him again. “Don’t make me put you in sleep mode.”

“Is that a euphemism?” Dewees asks.

“Base 8, The Bulletproof Heart is disconnecting,” Mikey says.

“Copy, Bulletproof Heart. You guys got time to run an errand for us?” the radio voice asks.

“Gee?” Mikey calls out. “You want me to ask what kind of errand?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Gerard says. “Say yes.”

 

 

 


End file.
